


Bridges

by MarianasRomance



Category: Bandom, Frank - Fandom, Frank/Gerard - Fandom, Gerard - Fandom, MCR - Fandom, ferard - Fandom, frerard - Fandom, iero, mychemicalromance, vampire - Fandom, way - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianasRomance/pseuds/MarianasRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is the poster child for someone struggling with depression after his father died when he was a small child. At the relatively young age of nineteen, he's already on the fast track to alcohol addiction. Surprisingly, though aware of how horrible of a life he's living, he doesn't seem to mind. He's perfectly fine living a normal, drab life. He has no dreams or aspirations to reach. So when mysterious Gerard, who opens Frank up to a world that had been lying just underneath the one he's known all his life, steps into the picture, Frank doesn't have to grieve the loss of anything when the older man turns his life upside down and questions his once-determined sexuality. Frank knows he shouldn't just follow this dangerous man around like this, but he can't bring himself to care. Maybe it's time to have some fun, though he'll learn some things aren't as fun as he'd originally thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rejected Allegations

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you guys. This is my first frerard that I've actually posted anywhere, though I've started a couple. I'll go ahead and warn all of you, I'm very bad at being on time with updates--which is one of the reasons I haven't posted before this. I decided to do it anyway, just to get my writing out there. Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoy.

     Frank wandered down the alley towards the bar, not even bothering to fish his fake ID out of his pocket. He just strolled straight to the door, stopping to stand in front of the guy leaning against the building. He nudged a bottle lying on the ground with his Converse, the sharp sound falling through the air with a clatter.

     Startled, Bob looked up from his phone, his blue eyes glinting in the harsh light coming from the device. “Oh, hey, Frank.” Pocketing the phone, he straightened up with a smile and hooked his thumb at the building behind him. “Are you here for that band inside?”Not really wanting to say that he was just there for the alcohol, Frank just smirked and gave a soft shrug. A knowing look appeared in Bob’s eyes, and he chuckled slightly.

     Bob had never really spoken with Frank before. He has spoken to Frank, but Frank has never responded. Bob talked to Ray about it once, and all the other man had to say was that Frank was just very picky with when he spoke. By this point, Bob was used to having one sided conversations with the boy. He almost found his silence endearing.

     Frank shuffled his feet, not wanting to just completely bypass the man who served as the half assed bouncer for the club he had been visiting for the past year or so. He knew that the security guy was aware that he was sorely underage; he also knew that the man didn’t particularly care. To show that he was grateful, Frank always tried to make an effort to show that he didn’t mind the guy.

     Most people, when faced with Frank’s silence, both took it personal and became offended, or they just decided to ignore him. It wasn’t that he didn’t talk; he did talk, quite often. It wasn’t even put to him being shy. He was actually very outgoing... If he decided to talk to you. It was a hit or miss thing; he would talk to you if he felt like it. Sometimes he did. Sometimes he didn’t. It depended on what day you caught him on. Most days, he didn’t.

     It wasn’t that he was one of those self-proclaimed mutes. Those people didn’t talk at all, or if they did, it was to very few people. Frank would pretty much talk to anyone, if he felt like talking. He didn’t only talk to the people that he liked. He just liked to listen. Listening is so peaceful sometimes. Just being able to sit back and let the other person talk. You can learn a lot about people that way.

     What he’s learned about Bob is that the man was very easygoing. He obviously was if he would just let a nineteen year old strut into a bar. He let people make their own mistakes. If Frank wanted to start early on a good alcohol addiction, he would let him. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for the younger man; he was just going to let him be.

     The blonde man had never disregarded him due to his lack of words, which was why Frank liked him so much. He conversed with the younger man, whether Frank answered or not. Bob didn’t need spoken responses to carry on a good conversation. He just needed a nod here and there, maybe a shrug, or a laugh when he tried to crack jokes.

     Bob had heard about how the young man got when he was drinking, and he found the thought incredibly amusing. He almost didn’t believe the stories Ray told him. They were mostly too farfetched for the observant teenager he saw go into the bar early in the evenings. The only thing that made him consider that alter ego’s questionable existence was the man he saw stumble out of the establishment in the early hours of the morning. By that time, Frank was too drunk to talk, just giggling and falling all over the place. Bob never knew what he was laughing about, and he never asked. He just laughed along with the inebriated teenager, finding the difference hilarious.

     When Frank didn’t make a move to go inside just yet, Bob picked up the conversation. “Have you ever heard of them?” Frank didn’t know who was scheduled to perform tonight. He frowned at the older man and cocked his head to the side questioningly. When Bob gave some underground band’s name, Frank paused and searched his memory for the name. When he came up blank, he just shook his head. “Yeah, they seemed pretty new at this whole thing. They’ve been running around here like headless chickens. They have no clue what they’re doing.” The two men shared a chuckle. Bob raised his brows. “You never know though, they could be good. Why don’t you go in there and find out, so you can tell me about it later?”

     Frank grinned and nodded. With that, he stepped past Bob to pull open the heavy door. Stepping into the dimly lit space, he made a beeline for the bar. To get there, he had to squeeze past the crowd of people that were standing around the space that was cleared for the bands that played there on Fridays and Saturdays. He bobbed and weaved, once or twice blatantly shoving someone out of his way.

     As he heaved himself onto one of the stools, he made eye contact with Ray, the bartender. He held up a finger to signal he wanted a drink. Ray nodded and went to get it. Waiting for the curly haired man, Frank swung around on the stool to face the mass of people gathering around the group of guys at the front. Just like Bob had said, the band members didn’t seem to know what to do. They were struggling with hooking up all their instruments and getting settled in the small space provided. Frank felt a stab of sympathy and pity for the four young guys.

     Hearing a bottle being placed on the bar, Frank turned back around. He smiled at Ray with a small nod of thanks. Taking a swig from his beer, he listened intently as Ray started in on another one of his bar stories. This is what usually happened when Frank sat in Ray’s section of the long bar. Ray would get Frank his drink, and then in between getting his other customers their drinks and covering for the other bartender when they had to see to something else, he would tell Frank all of his bar experiences. He hadn’t really been a bartender for a terribly long time, but in that time, he had moved from bar to bar as he moved from town to town. He’d even worked in a gay bar, which was both one of the funniest and most… interesting experiences in his short time in the profession.

     Frank always looked forward to the stories. He liked Ray, and this was an easy way to communicate with the man without Frank always having to speak back. Now, Frank actually did talk to the friendly bartender. Most times, it was when he was drunk. Not surprisingly, the alcohol got him in the talking mood. Sober Frank was always ready to just listen and not let his opinion readily known. However, Drunk Frank loved to have his loud, obnoxious opinions broadcasted for anyone who would listen. Ray gladly listened to Frank as he rambled drunkenly when the young boy got to that point each night. He loved listening to Frank talk—it was such a contrast to how he was when he was sober: quiet and thoughtful. He also found it incredibly funny when Frank would make an ass of himself, hitting on chicks right in front of their boyfriends and laughing way too loud at Ray’s stories to bother the people next to him.

     Frank immensely enjoyed Ray’s stories. It gave him something to think about while he was getting drunk instead of the reason why he was drinking. He’s heard things from a couple trying to have sex on the bar to an entire bar fight erupting because of a disagreement two very drunk, grown men had over which movie was better: The Notebook or Titanic.

     At the moment, Frank was grinning as Ray told him of a guy who had come into the bar already shitfaced during the middle of a snowstorm. “I had to try to get him down off the bar without yelling; I didn’t want the entire place to notice the naked old guy dancing up there where the drinks were made.” Ray pushed his long hair out of his face, Frank’s grin mirrored on his own face. He laughed as he went on. “I was like, ‘Okay, man, you got to leave’, but he just started moaning about how he couldn’t go outside because he didn’t want his dick to freeze and fall off.” Ray stopped talking as a loud laugh burst from Frank’s lips. Frank wasn’t even close to drunk yet, so his laughter died down shortly, but his grin stayed in place. “Yeah, he actually said that, and most everyone heard at this point. I said to him—I said, ‘Well, then maybe you shouldn’t have torched your clothes in the bathroom, you stupid old man’. I was so fed up, knowing that if this guy didn’t hop off my bar, I would lose my job.

     “After I said that, things really started getting bad. The guy started crying and apologizing. When I tried to grab his hand to help him off the bar without him breaking a hip or some shit, he yanked away and fell off into a guy who was sitting on one of the stools. I don’t know why the guy he fell on didn’t move as soon as a naked guy jumped up on the bar next to him, but—”

     “I do not know, a naked man dancing on a bar does not sound too bad to me. In fact, it sounds pretty enjoyable.” A smooth voice interrupted Ray from right beside Frank. Frank whipped his head to the side to find a man standing a little too close to his side.

     The man’s black hair hung down in his face and reached halfway to his shoulders. His eyes were a shade of hazel that was so different from Frank’s own. While sitting down, Frank could tell that the man was taller than him. Even in the dim lighting, he could tell that the man was startlingly beautiful. His smooth, pale skin reminded Frank of a china doll, but these man’s features did not hold any of the fragility of a doll.

     The older man’s black dress shirt was tight, as were his black jeans, showing off his lean but muscled arms. He looked out of place with his nice clothing, but his stance screamed that he was comfortable in his surroundings. He had the aura that he was looking down upon everyone in the bar, and Frank scoffed loudly.

     He hated guys that thought they were somehow better than everyone else, and this guy was obviously no different from the ones he had met in the past. What was different though was that when the unknown man flicked his gaze to stare at the underage teen, Frank’s heart stuttered.

     This man’s gaze was so intense, boring into Frank’s and practically stealing his breath. The quiet, young man tried not to let guys like this affect him; he didn’t want them to think they could intimidate him. But this new man was different. Frank felt as if he was staring into him, and it made his mind go utterly blank for a second.

     “Um, is there something I can get you, sir?” The sound of Ray’s voice brings Frank back to reality, and he blinks and breaks his stare with the guy next to him.

     Keeping his eyes on his beer bottle, Frank tenses as the guy leans against the bar dangerously close to Frank. “A scotch, please.”

     Frank cocks an eyebrow and glances up to meet Ray’s eyes. They share a look before the man behind the bar goes to fix the stranger’s drink. Frank tries to turn away from the guy subtly, not wanting to offend but to get his point across. He was nowhere near drunk enough to just talk to this guy. Plus, Frank didn’t want to encourage the guy by talking to him; he was close enough as it was.

     Just as he was about to start his subtle shifting, the stranger spoke. “Hello.” His voice washed over Frank, and the young man had to refrain from shivering. The man’s voice was pure seduction; anything he said could make you want to give in to him.  
Not wanting to fully make eye contact with the guy, Frank just glances at him just barely and gives a quick nod with a tense smile.

     “My name is Gerard.” This time the voice was inches from his right ear. Frank’s body tensed, and his breathing hitched as the older man’s breath fanned over his neck. “What is yours?” He could practically feel the guy’s smile in his voice as he whispered to Frank.

      Not knowing how to respond exactly, the boy leaned sharply away and took a swig of his beer. When the guy—Gerard—didn’t move away, Frank began to grow nervous. Most people could take a hint; he’s never had to deal with someone who has so blatantly refused. He started to toy with the metal hoop threaded through his lower lip.

      Thankfully, Ray came to the rescue. He set Gerard’s drink on the bar top with more force than necessary, the drink sloshing around. He gave the man a look before turning to the young man who looked as if he would run at any second. “You done with your customary beer, Frank?”

      Frank’s head snapped up so fast, it looked as if it should have hurt the boy, but he just glared at the bartender. Slowly, oh so slowly, Gerard cocked his head to the side. “Frank, huh?” He purred.

      Gerard smirked as he tested the boy’s name on his tongue. He liked it, though it seemed a bit too old for the kid. He could tell that this guy was underage, his face too innocent to be surrounded by all these drunk idiots. No matter how innocent he may look, however; there was something that drew Gerard to him. It wasn’t Frank’s tattoos that covered his arms and hands. No matter how hot it was to see Frank’s tongue peek out of his pink lips to mess with his lip piercing in an obvious nervous habit, Gerard knew that couldn’t be it. Punk kids didn’t usually catch his attention; he preferred his guys a little less angsty.

      Judging by the glare little Frank sent his friend behind the bar, Gerard was getting to him just as he had wanted. He was at first a little put off by how the guy refused to talk to him and how he had moved as if to turn his back to him. To put it lightly, the older man wasn’t used to being so obviously rejected. He knew as soon as he really tried and got his grip on Frank, the kid wouldn’t have a chance. He was going to let him try to resist though. It was fun to see the effect he had on the short boy.

      Frank gave a short nod to the guy behind the bar. The guy confirmed that Frank wanted a jack and coke, and then he moved away with another hard look at Gerard. He didn’t know why, but he got the feel that the bartender was feeling protective of little Frank here. For a fleeting second, he wondered if the two were together, but then he quickly dismissed that idea. He had been watching Frank since he got here; he wasn’t talking to the bartender either.

      Without a beer bottle to stare at, Frank was glancing everywhere except at Gerard. He tapped his fingers against the bar and bounced his leg. He clicked his teeth against his piercing, and tried to think of anything besides the guy sitting next to him. When he glanced over in Gerard’s direction against his will, his eyes landed on the man’s untouched drink. Frowning slightly, he tried to drag his eyes to look ahead of himself again, but instead, his heart pounding, he flicked his eyes up to look at the man himself.  
His eyes winded the slightest when he found that Gerard had been staring at him. Now that their eyes had met, Frank couldn’t tear his gaze away. His mouth became dry, and he tried to swallow. The way this guy affected him worried Frank. They had barely spoken, the only words being Gerard’s. Why did this guy make his heart speed up?

      Keeping his eyes locked on the guy next to him, his heart stopped when Gerard started leaning in towards him. Was he really going to let this guy kiss him without even speaking to him? Forget that they had never spoken; Frank wasn’t gay. He couldn’t really be ready to let this guy kiss him.

      That was what it looked like as Gerard’s eyes traveled down his face to rest on his lips. At the older man’s stare, he unconsciously flicked his tongue out to wet his dry lips. When Gerard quirked an eyebrow, Frank mentally berated himself. This guy he doesn’t know is about to kiss him against his will, and he licks his lips as if to tempt the bastard?

      Right at the last second, Ray’s voice pulls Gerard’s eyes from Frank’s lips to the bartender. “Am I interrupting something, Frank? I didn’t know you knew this guy.” He was speaking to Frank, but his eyes were locked on Gerard.  
Frank hastily accepts his drink from Ray, relief spreading through his body. He could have kissed the bartender if he had been any closer to him.

      Gerard could have killed the man if he didn’t know that doing so would only make Frank more wary of him. Right when Frank had looked at him long enough for him to make his move, the stupid, curly-haired bartender had to interrupt. He scowled when the younger man shook his head frantically at the guy’s question.

      As the guy was called to the other end of the bar, Gerard knew he wouldn’t get another chance like the one that had just been ruined by Curly over there. He would have to get Frank to speak to him, he supposed. Just looking at the kid though, he could tell it wouldn’t be easy. He smirked as an idea came to his head. It was perfect.

To calm his nerves, Frank hurriedly snatched up his drink, the brown liquid spilling over onto his fingers. He drained the glass in one go and put it down empty on the bar. He sighed with his eyes shut tight. t let it show, if he could help it.

     As Ray comes over to replace his empty glass with another one, a movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention. He turned his head to look at Gerard slightly as the man reached into his pocket and retrieved a little vial filled with thick, red liquid. It was so dark, it was almost black.

      Not caring if he gave Gerard the reaction he wanted, Frank turned to fully stare at what he was doing. The man pretended not to notice the other two men’s stares as he uncorked the vial and poured some into his drink. He glanced up and faked surprise.

     Though his voice is innocent, his smirk gave him away. “What? Oh, this?” He set the vial onto the bar and stirred the red liquid into his drink. Taking a sip from his drink, he nodded his head at the little container still sitting on the bar top. “Would you like some?”

      Frank furrowed his brows to ask the question that was running through both his and Ray’s heads. What the hell was that? It almost looked like…

      “Blood.” Gerard answered their question with one word.

      At first, Frank just widened his eyes in shock. Then disbelief and incredulity spread through his system. He wouldn’t have pegged Gerard as one of those vampire wannabes. Softly, almost going unheard, Frank breathed, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ray’s shocked eyes shot from Gerard to Frank rather quickly when the soft words escaped the boy’s lips. Frank glanced at the bartender. “What? I don’t have to be drunk to talk.” He said defensively. His eyes immediately went back to Gerard’s smug face. He had already let a few words slip; what were a few more? “So what are you? Some kind of wannabe vampire?”

     “What are you? One of those mutes?” Gerard shot back.

      Frank scoffed. “Hardly. I just prefer to listen rather than talk.” He cocked his head to the side. “What about you? Do you prefer to freak out people with your fake blood there rather than actually work for a date?”

     Gerard cocked an eyebrow. “You do not think getting blood into this vial is work? You try controlling the blood flow of a dying human.”

     Frank shook his head in disbelief and sneered. “Right, because you’re a vampire. Burn in the sunlight and stake through the heart and all that?” Frank leaned forward and flicked the still uncorked vial over, the thick liquid spilling out all over the bar. “Well, sorry to burst your bubble, Gerard, but vampires aren’t real. Pick yourself out another victim to try to trick.” Ignoring the rage that flared up in Gerard’s eyes, Frank picked up his second drink and drained it, too. Turning to Ray, he pushed the empty glass over to him. “Thanks for the drinks, Ray. I’ll pay you next time. Night.”

     Frank hopped off the stool, but paused before he made his way out. With a sneer, Frank glanced over his shoulder at the fuming man. “Next time, make sure the guy is actually gay, faggot.” He spat at him. With that, Frank strode through the crowd and out the door.

      Ray reached under the bar and pulled out a stack of napkins. He leaned over the bar to start wiping at the spilled red liquid, its identity still in question. Gerard held up a pale hand to stop the man. “Leave it. If you could get me a bag or something, I can clean this mess up.”

      Ray cocked an eyebrow, but did as the man asked. It took some searching, but he was able to find a brown paper bag in the back. When he returned, the red liquid had been mopped up and the bar was filled with mediocre punk music from the band up front. Gerard accepted the bag with quiet thanks. Gathering all the drenched napkins, he dropped them into the sack before folding it and shoving it deep into his pocket. When his hand retracted from his pocket, the bag had been replaced with a crisp bill.  
Throwing that down, Gerard too drained his drink before sliding down from his stool. “Thanks again.” He spun on his heel and blended into the crowd that was surrounding the four guys who were just now gaining confidence.

     Gerard snaked his way through the moving mass of people. As he made his was closer to the band, his eyes started searching almost every face, passing over the teenagers and looking for someone who was over eighteen. He didn’t want to have to deal with the trouble teenagers always brought with them. With what he was planning, he didn’t need one of them to claim rape the following morning. He needed someone who knew what they were getting into, had probably done it before, and who was legal. Again, the last thing he needed was to be accused of raping a drunken teenager.

      The stunt that Frank pulled just reminded him how much he hated those still stuck in childhood, if just barely. They were careless and selfish. Gerard felt another stab of anger at the punk. He had brought that vial, so he could get come here to pretend to feel the calming effects of the alcohol at the same time as dealing with his need without having to seduce an unsuspecting male to do so. He just wanted to drink to get over the nerves of moving and then get to his new home to sleep. Despite that, because of some stupid kid, he had to find a random guy to take to some cheap motel.

     In his rage, Gerard had found himself a person or two deep into the crowd from the band. Letting the earlier incident slip from his mind, he actually listened to the music. After a few seconds, he decided that they weren’t half bad. The guitar was fast and angry, and the singer definitely had a unique voice. Gerard admired that. Letting his eyes wander to the faces of the band members, he instantly felt his interest pique.

     From what he could tell, most girls there had their eyes on the singer. However, Gerard had let his gaze slip past him and land on the guitarist. The guy had choppy brown hair, and Gerard noticed his sharp blue eyes from where he was standing. He had long fingers that worked over the strings of the guitar, and his arms were slender but toned. Average in height, he was wearing skinny jeans that hugged his strong thighs.

      Gerard smirked as he imagined having those legs wrapped around his waist has he thrust hard and fast into this man. His mind was made up, and he let his eyes remain on the musician. After just a few moments, the man felt his stare and glanced up. Gerard boldly met his gaze, making sure he let his interest known. Clearly the man got the hint, his face grew slightly pink, and he cast his eyes back down to the instrument he was playing.

      When the man shyly glanced back up, Gerard inclined his head in a half hello and half invitation. Making sure the man followed him with his eyes, so he would know where to find him; he turned around and made his way back through the crowd. Breaking out of the sea of sweat and movement, Gerard made his way back towards the bar, this time not in Ray’s section.

      Ordering a simple beer, he waited patiently for the band to finish up. He kept his eyes on the guitar player, and every time the man would glance his way, Gerard made sure to smile and wink. As they finished, people went up there to chat with them while they put their gear away into cases and coiled up the wires.

      As a couple of burly men came to wheel the amps away, the guitar player started to make his way towards Gerard. He kept his eyes on the musician as he walked toward him almost hesitantly. On his journey over, he kept getting stopped by girls in nonexistent shorts and cropped shirts. They flirted and talked too loud, but the guy politely sent them on their merry way, and he would continue on.

     Gerard had to respect that. When girls came up to him, and they did often, he would scoff and usually insult them. He didn’t think too highly of girls; they were too moody and needy. That’s why he liked guys. Guys tended to not to whine and cry as much. He had never been able to even consider girls, in all his years—there had been many of those, as well.

     He frowned. Now that he thought of it, Gerard rejected girls just how Frank had rejected him earlier that night. He hadn’t liked that, so he supposed he should probably change his method of refusal now that he’s gotten a taste of his own medicine. The only problem was that when he insulted the girls, they left in a huff and maybe even slapping the man. When Frank rejected Gerard and called him that insulting name, he only gave the older man a mission: to prove the punk teenager wrong. Frank was gay. There was no way he wasn’t.

     The man sitting at the bar was staring with a thoughtful frown on his face when the guitar player finally got to his side. The musician cleared his throat. When Gerard glanced up, he blushed and stammered, “Um, I—I saw you in the crowd b-before you left. I…” The guy stopped abruptly and breathed in sharply through his nose before continuing, “I was wondering if you were doing anything after this?”

     Immensely pleased, Gerard gave the man a small smile. “I just might. Are you offering?”

     Immediately, the musician blushed, and he ducked his head. “Y-yeah, I guess. I mean, yeah. Yes. I’m offering.” As if just realizing what he said, his head whipped up, and he stared with wide eyes at Gerard’s almost emotionless face. “T-that is if you want to. I was just assuming.” Gerard started chuckling at how nervous this guy really was. Not sure how to take the laugh, the man grew even more red, if that was possible. As he grew panicked, his voice rose slightly in pitch, and the words were just spilling out of his mouth. “You know, since you were staring at me, I figured you went that way. I mean, you were staring at me, w-weren’t you? I wasn’t just imagining that, was I?” Now his face was a mask of mortified horror. “Oh, my God. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all.” As the man starts mumbling a string of expletives, Gerard smirked and let him ramble for a while.

     When the amusement started to wear off, he held up his hand silently to quiet the boy. “Do not apologize. You did not imagine it; I was in fact staring.”

     The guy just let his mouth hang open in shock as he let the stranger’s words sink in. Sitting down on the barstool next to him, he thought of what to say. Not coming up with much, he just decided to blurt out, “Well, then if you were staring, then why didn’t you just ask me yourself?”

     “I wanted to see if you would do it yourself. To see how badly you wanted it—how bad you wanted me.” Gerard cocked his head to the side and set his smoldering gaze on the man, who instantly blushed under the intimate stare.

     Blinking as if trying to get out of a trance, the man frowned slightly. “How did you know I would have wanted it at all?”

     Now Gerard scoffed loudly. “I knew you would. I’m never wrong; I can always tell which men crave such things.”

     The musician looked at him stupidly. “Such things?"

     Gerard leaned forward and breathed in his ear, “The touch of another man.” Flicking his tongue out, he traced the shell of the man’s ear. The slightly younger male shivered under the onslaught of sensations the stranger evoked. Pulling back slightly, Gerard slid his hand up the man’s thigh. “Now that we have that sorted, let’s take this party elsewhere.” Gerard gave the man beside him his most seductive smile. “I believe what I have in mind is not… appropriate for our current location.” Leaning away completely, Gerard put money on the bar for his beer then stood. When the other man followed his lead, he put his hand on the man’s lower back.

     Just as they were about to walk away from the bar, Gerard heard an annoyingly familiar voice call to them. “Did I hear earlier that you can always tell which guys ‘crave such things’?”

     With a scowl, Gerard turned around halfway. “Did you just admit to eavesdropping? Even idiots like you must know how rude that is. You might want to work at that.” Making a move to leave, he stopped again when Ray continued as if Gerard had never spoken.

     This time the bartender’s voice was smug, and the smile on his face matched. “And that you are never wrong? I don’t know, Gerard. I’d say you were pretty wrong with Frank earlier.”

     To Ray’s surprise, the other man turned fully to face him, and this time had a gorgeous grin plastered on his face. Fazed by the smile, the man behind the bar almost missed the words, “I am never wrong. You can believe me when I say that Frank is gay. He is a natural bottom; one day, some man is going to have him screaming that he wants it faster. Harder. Deeper. He will beg to be fucked, and I am determined to be the man that he begs. I will make him feel pleasure he has never known before. Make no mistake about that.” Gerard pulled the musician closer to him. “In fact, my guy here will be able to tell Frank all about it.” Giving one last nasty smile, he tipped an invisible hat at the bartender. “Goodnight, Ray.”

     Not looking back, Gerard steered the man out the door and onto the street. An unspoken agreement came between them, and they next found themselves getting a room at a rundown motel off of Main Street. Gerard paid for the room, no surprise there. Taking the room key from the old man at the desk, he couldn’t help but laugh at the guy’s obvious disgust at the prospect of two guys sharing a motel room. When they first got there, the man was desperate to blurt out, “Two rooms?” At Gerard’s silent decline, he grew a little more horrified. “Two beds?”

     “No, thank you.” Gerard smirked as he watched the old man go from horrified to downright disgusted.

     He practically threw the key at Gerard, with a growled, “Have fun, boys.”

     “Oh, we plan to.” Before leaving, Gerard made sure to add, “And if you could make sure the maids do not disturb us tomorrow, that would be great. Thanks again.” He knew that he wouldn’t be there even past two in the morning; he had just wanted to lay it on thick. Couldn’t hurt to send the guy home with homophobic nightmares.

      Once in the room, Gerard wasted no time. As soon as the door was closed behind them, he immediately crashed their lips together. Walking the man straight to the bed, he climbed on top of him, his knees straddling the guy’s hips. While his slender fingers started working on the buttons of the man’s shirt, Gerard trailed open mouth kisses down his neck. Once the shirt was undone, he ran his hands up the guy’s chest.

     There was one last thing that Gerard felt he couldn’t leave out. He knew he wouldn’t feel too bad if he skipped over it; it was more for the other man’s benefit. He licked a path up to the guy’s ear and asked him, “What’s your name, kid?” The guy’s breathing increased when Gerard ran his open palms against the guy’s nipples.

     The guy struggled to get his breathing under control. Between pants he managed to choke out, “My name… is… Adam…”

     “Well, Adam. My name is Gerard, and feel free to moan.” At that, Gerard left the words behind. Without a moment passing after his words, he reached his hand down to roughly cup the guy’s semi in his jeans. Obediently, Adam let out a breathy moan, his chest heaving with his labored breathing.

     Gerard got back to the guy’s neck, suckling and nibbling at the flesh. He located Adam’s pulse, flicking his tongue over it. Feeling the blood pulsing through the vein almost brought him to moan himself. Trailing his teeth over the spot, he had to pull away before he went ahead too soon.

     With his hand still working over the man’s growing erection, Gerard let his kisses start to wonder down Adam’s chest. Not wanting to waste anymore time, his own cock twitching as he caught sight of the guy’s body that was flushed pink with blood, as soon as he latched his mouth around one pert nipple, he made quick work of the zipper and pulled Adam’s pants down in one sweep—taking his underwear with it.

     Reaching one pale hand down, he trailed his hand up the guy’s straining cock before wrapping his fist around it. Starting at a slow pace, he rapidly built up a rhythm that had Adam moaning and his erection leaking precum. Using that as lubricant, he let his hand work over the man’s cock at a faster speed. Letting his lips trail back up to his throat, he groaned when Adam let a moan rip from his throat, and the vibrations tickled Gerard’s lips that were sucking the flesh into his greedy mouth.

     When his own straining erection became too much, Gerard spread the man’s legs and sucked on his own digits. Reaching past the guy’s balls, he circled one fingertip around the puckered entrance and set his lips back to his throat. After a moment a slight teasing, he pushed his finger. Almost giving Adam no chance to grow used to the sensation, he started to thrust his finger a few times before adding a second and third in quick succession. Scissoring his fingers, he kept the pace steady before retracting them.

      Adam whimpered a little at the loss when the older man moved away to quickly rid himself of his clothes, but moaned at the sight when he watched the mysterious man spread lube from a sachet that he got from the pocket of his jeans on the floor. The musician moaned deep in his throat when Gerard plunged his erection deep into his ass without warning. Completely seated within the young man, a moan fell from his lips, muffled by the man’s throat. Giving them both a few seconds to grow accustomed to the sensations, Gerard started off at a slow pace but quickly sped up.

      He hadn’t done this in so long with a regular man that the experience was throwing him off a little bit. He had almost forgotten how it felt to have a man clenched around his pulsing erection. Getting a little enthusiastic, Gerard grabbed Adam’s hips and started thrusting into the younger man at an almost inhuman pace. The man beneath him let his hand wrap around his own erection and help himself along.

     When Adam’s breathing became shallow, and Gerard could feel the telltale signs of the man’s fast-approaching orgasm, he replaced the man’s hand with his own and bit down softly on his pulse to throw him over the edge. When Adam arched his back, Gerard could not help himself any longer.

     To milk the man’s orgasm and get what he had come here for, Gerard felt his fangs lengthen before he plunged them into the man’s neck. Adam didn’t know what happened, but suddenly a groan was ripped from his throat and his whole body started to tremble. The pleasure was overwhelming, and he never wanted it to end.

     Gerard closed his eyes as blood gushed into his mouth, and he refrained from moaning himself as his orgasm tore through his body. Keeping his hips still, he swallowed as he greedily stole this man’s blood.

     When he knew he had his fill, Gerard started to just suck on the bite, letting his tongue run over the puncture wounds repeatedly. Placing one last kiss on the bite, he pulled out of the heaving man beneath him. Rolling to the side, he let himself collapse beside the musician. Adam’s gaze was glazed over, and his breathing remained shallow.

     Gerard stared up at the ceiling and savored the feeling of this guy’s blood start to mingle with his own. Closing his eyes, he let himself sink into the mattress beside Adam.

     When he snapped back into reality from his daze, the clock read four in the morning. Getting up, Gerard pulled on his own clothes before leaning down to check the wound on Adam’s neck. It was completely closed up, and only a hickey remained. Smiling smugly to himself, he quietly let himself out of the motel room.

     Letting the cool air wash against him, he started to walk back to his place. Maybe this town wouldn’t be too bad. He knew he would probably be able to stand it long enough for him to find what it was he was looking for. Really, he didn’t even have to go looking for it. He just needed to make his presence known in the town long enough, and it would come to him.

     Now all he needed was a little human to occupy his time while he was waiting, and he knew a punk teenager that would serve him just fine.

* * *

     Hey, you guys. I apologize for the hiatus of sorts that has probably seemed like it's lasted eons. Once this school year is over, I will finally have time to write. Again, I apologize profusely. Hope you guys have stuck around to see more and are willing to wait just a tad bit more for the second installment.

     Current Music: Product of a Murderer by Of Mice and Men


	2. Chapter Two

Frank stared up at the man towering before him. He tried to use his feet to scoot himself away from the scowling man looming over him. His back hit the wall before he got too far, and the feeling of the cold cinderblock wall against his bare skin pulled another sob from his chest. There was no way he was escaping from this one; the house above him was empty, so no one was coming to help this time. As if there had ever been someone to help the previous times.

Even though it was useless, Frank tried to plead with him. His words were drowning in his tears and didn’t make much sense, but still he spoke. “Please. Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” His sobs interrupted his speech, but he fought through. “I’ll do anything; just please stop.”

The man stepped forward, and the hatred in his eyes burned. Behind him, a fire poker was stuck in a flame in the fireplace; the end was glowing red from being kept over a flame for the prior twenty minutes. Those twenty minutes, Frank had gone from staring at the metal rod to the man and going from pleading to praying.

The man got sick of hearing the fifteen year old cry at him, and he yelled, “Shut the fuck up, faggot.” He advanced on the trembling Frank.

“Please, Father. Please don’t. I won’t tell Mom, I swear to God.” The closer his father got, the more hysterical his voice grew. He was practically screeching, his voice breaking with every other word. “Please, Dad. Please, don’t. I swear I—”

The man suddenly crouched down and got in Frank’s face. “Don’t you dare call me that, you whore. I will not be a father to such an abomination.”

“I didn’t do anything, just please let me go.”

Frank’s father interrupted with a roar, “You kissed that gay friend of yours.”

Frank whimpered and shied away from his father’s contorted face. “No, I didn’t. I—”

“I saw you, you worthless piece of shit.” He pushed Frank away from him and into the wall. He got up and stalked over to the fire, yanking the rod from the flames.

Frank’s panic tightened his chest, and he choked out, “It was an accident; it didn’t mean anything. It won’t happen again.” When his father started to advance on him again, his panic increased tenfold. His heart was in his throat, and he started screaming, “Please. Please don’t. It didn’t mean anything. Please, God. It won’t happen again.”

Gripping the rod tightly in his hand, his father bent down in front of him, and in a hard voice, interrupted him, “Damn straight it won’t happen again.”

When his father tried to grip his wrist and hold his arm still, he started trying to yank away and stopped being able to breathe. He continued to scream, “Get away from me. Dad, please. Please don’t. Please, no.” His father got a hold of his arm and held it still despite all his struggling. Without a second’s hesitation, his father pressed the hot poker against the white skin of his forearm.

An earsplitting scream was ripped from his throat as Frank shot up in bed. The nightmare shattered around his hyperventilating form; his breathing was heavy, and tears streaked his face. His eyes shot down to look at his forearm, and his hand brushed against the two year old scar. Relief bloomed in his chest when touching didn’t hurt, but as he stared at the slightly raised, pink skin and the flashback was played back in his head, he felt the ghost sensations dance across his skin. The sting was almost real, and he shut his eyes against it. 

He focused on getting his breathing to a normal pace. It was difficult, but after ten or so minutes, his heart had stopped thumping erratically in chest, and his lungs were no longer trying to drag in their last breaths. After the adrenaline rush, his body was left shaking in its wake. The quiet of his room was highly discerning, and he wished suddenly for some sort of noise. The silence seemed to be screaming at him, calling to attention all of the bad memories.

In a rush, Frank lay back down and pulled the blanket around his body. He tried to banish the nightmarish thoughts from his mind all while trying to stop the cold sweats. He shut his eyes tight to block out the empty space of his bedroom. He curled in on himself and struggled to keep calm. The panic was gone, but dread had settled deep within his body. Sadness was crawling over his skin, leaving goosebumbs in its tracks, and his abdomen felt hollow. 

No matter what he did, he couldn’t escape the torrent of emotions. He was swept away and tossed amid the darkest regions of his conscious. No matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn’t escape the memories that were wrapping around his throat, cutting off his air. His watery eyes took in the shards of his memory glinting from all over the room, little reminders littered across the room. Closed eyes were no solace either. Stuck with the darkness in his own head, his imagination dreamt up even worse scenarios. 

He tried to keep his gasping down to a minimum, to make sure his mother didn’t hear. He bit down on his blanket to keeps the sobs from escaping. Suppressing his inner turmoil hurt. His chest ached, and it felt as if his head had been stuffed with cotton. The more he tried to calm down, the worse it got. Nausea rose up suddenly in his throat; Frank tried to rise out of bed to make it to the bathroom in time, but once his head lifted from the pillow, the room started to spin as if it was tilting on its axis.

Still he put both his feet on the cold hardwood floor, and pried his shaking body from the bed. He stumbled across the room, sure to watch the fractured nightmare still scattered across the floor. He collapsed against his door; he tried to catch his breath and swallow down the rushing nausea. His hand resting on the doorknob, he gathered his wits about him before yanking the door open and emerging from his room. 

He tried to walk steadily down the hallway to the bathroom. Just in case his mother was still awake, he didn’t want to arouse her suspicions. He slowly shuffled past her door, but stopped to peer in. There she was as usual, passed out on the bed with a bottle of hard liquor clutched in her hand. 

She had always been like this, for as long as Frank could remember. He was not ignorant to the Pre-Frank times however. He had seen pictures. His mother used to be beautiful and full of life. Her marriage with his father hadn’t started out badly either. Then Frank came along. He’d heard of couples that just weren’t meant to have kids, and it changes them if they do. That was the case with his family; his parents just weren’t parents. His mother was a professional drunk, and his father was an expert at being angry all the time.

It probably wouldn’t have turned out so bad if he hadn’t been such a terrible child. If he could’ve just figured out that the secret to an almost normal family experience was to keep your mouth shut and stay in line, he would have been so very cautious to do so. But his first teenage years, he had done anything but. 

He went through the typical teenage stage when he rejected everything his parents said and did everything he was told not to do. Typical teenage shit. He had a best friend that his father hated, and it was apparent why from the get go. 

“That boy’s gay.”

“Stay away from that faggot.”

“He’s going to hell for his sins.”

Frank just brushed off everything his father said. It wasn’t because he didn’t believe him; Frank was perfectly aware that Adam was gay. He didn’t necessarily have a problem with it. He didn’t think he was going to hell or anything, and he most certainly didn’t see him as a “faggot”. 

Frank honestly hated that word. It was so very dirty; its very intent was to make the person feel lowly and worthless. That was the last thing he viewed Adam as. Because, yes, Adam had kissed him. But it was completely friendly.

Completely.

Of course, his father didn’t see it that way. He couldn’t see past the label to see his son. No, that was out of the question. So these punishments started, just from being caught once. His father had no proof it had been going on for longer; he just (correctly) assumed. 

The thing that got him to completely despise his mother was she never intervened. She drowned out the sounds of him being beaten with whiskey and vodka. And now, after his father had left them, she drowned out reality as a whole. 

He could never count on her to be there; how could he when she didn’t want him in the first place?

With this reminder in the shape of his mother’s sleeping form, another wave of nausea hit him. He had to grip the doorframe to stay upright, and his heaving had him doubling over. He gasped in a huge breath and ran for the bathroom, not caring if his mother heard him. If anything, she could come join him in perching over the toilet. She probably was due to empty the contents of her stomach as well. 

He shut and locked the bathroom door behind him. It was as if seeing the toilet made the nausea intensify. He threw himself to the floor in front of it and emptied his stomach. The stomach acid burned his stomach, the heaving made his eyes water, and the scent made him even more nauseas. He has no clue how long he stayed there, hunched over the toilet puking his guts out.

After there was nothing left in his stomach, he sat back and let the world swim around him. He was so exhausted, and getting sick doesn’t help. The exhaustion was set deep within his bones, and for some reason, it brought tears to his eyes all over again. 

He was done fighting it; he brought his knees up to his chest and just stopped caring. If his mother came in, so what? If he passed out on the bathroom floor, so what? At least, the shards of his nightmare weren’t beneath him as he slept. 

However, the world was not that nice. He stayed tightly gripped to consciousness, and he started to panic again. For some reason, at two in the morning on the floor of the bathroom he shared with his mother, he started to care what people thought. He cared what his asshole of a father had to say about him, and he cared that his mother would never not be half through a whiskey bottle.

The truth was he cared.

He cared so bad that it felt like he was being ripped in two.

He felt the frustration at not being able to change the way his father was and the way his mother is and the way he wanted to be. There was something deep inside him that he was supposed to be, but the way he was raised kept him from doing so. 

He had to learn that that was the way things were. Things couldn’t be changed because he didn’t have the guts to. He didn’t want to go to his mother just to be rejected. He didn’t want to be what he truly was because he was made to believe that was wrong. 

And wrong he was.

Everything about him was wrong. The way he thought, the way he felt, the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he breathed. Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong in the fullest sense of the word. 

If he wanted to change, it would have to be him motivating himself. Nobody else cared enough, so it was up to him. With this resolution newly erected in his mind, he opened the cupboards under the sink and started rummaging around. 

Frank knew himself well enough to know that he couldn’t handle actually going to someone for help. He didn’t like the embarrassment of asking for help. He couldn’t have anyone help fix him; it was up to him. So he had to do it the way he had trained himself to do so.

He found a bottle of men’s multivitamins that he knew his mother would never touch. He opened the bottle and shook pills onto his palm until a thin, shiny piece of metal fell out. Pinching the flimsy metal between his thumb and forefinger, he poured the pills back into the bottle. Setting the pill bottle aside, he placed the single blade on the edge of the tub and worked his sweatpants down over his thighs. He kicked them off and pushed his boxers up, revealing his bare thigh. Reaching over his shoulder, he picked up the blade and spread his legs just slightly.

He got a bit distracted looking at all the other faded scars crisscrossing along his inner thigh. Some were darker than others, the spectrum of discoloration showed the time spent cutting. He shook his head slightly, as if to get himself back on track. With the blade now in between his thumb and middle finger with his pointer on the edge to manage the pressure of each cut. 

With his shaking hand hovering above his inner thigh, he suddenly thought of what his father would think of his self harm. He probably wouldn’t care. He would be called a coward, and then his father would lend a very helpful hand.

Tears started trailing down his face. He couldn’t deny his life had been much easier since his father left. He could actually be what he wanted if he would just let himself. But he wouldn’t. It was as if he was punishing himself just in case his father ever returned. At least, Frank could say he proved his father wrong.

In order to do that, he needed to stay away from guys like Gerard. He didn’t need anyone messing up his plan. Even if his father never returned, he could sleep well that he made the bastard proud. He may have been a bastard, but he was also his father.

That’s why he could never indulge in himself.

That also why he made his first cut be for never being able to truly be himself.

***

Gerard let himself into the old house that was prepared for him by the Embassy. He didn’t have any trouble finding it, but it did take him a bit to get to it. He could’ve cut that time in half if he had just run, especially since he had just fed. However, he tended to like the moonlight right after a feeding. It was exceptionally bright, and tonight there was not a cloud in the sky.

He enjoyed his walk, and he was very happy with the house’s location. It was deep enough in the woods that he shouldn’t have to worry about anyone else stumbling onto it, but not too far out that it would be an inconvenience. The house wasn’t too big, but it fit his sense of grandeur that he had adopted over the years.

As he strolled through the halls of the house, he found it stocked with everything he should need during his stay here. Of course, there was food in the kitchen and clothes in the closets. Any toiletries and products that could come to mind were packed in the bathroom’s closet and shower. 

Overall, he liked it. A bit small for his preference, but it would serve him just fine. On the kitchen counter, he found a note addressed to him.

Dear Gerard,

The Embassy hopes you found your way to the house easily enough, and that you find everything in your liking. Of course, we have heard of your love for the city life, and that you won’t find yourself too bored in the suburban setting. However, we were very careful to pick a town big enough that your feedings would not draw any attention.

We are of course very sorry for the abrupt change in location, but after your help in the past decades, we felt the need to assign you to a new area to serve as the guardian of that sector. We hope you see the great honor in receiving this title and that you will go through your duties to the best of your ability.

As stated upon your departure, this will not be a permanent setting for you. You will be meeting with someone after a few weeks of you being there to discuss where you will be stationed next.

The Embassy hopes your stay there will be a pleasant one and that you will not find yourself too bored among the humans. We realize it’s been awhile since you’ve had to mingle with them, but with your legendary charm, we don’t doubt you’ll occupy yourself in some way. Yes, word of your affairs have reached us.

And as always be careful in your connections with the humans.

We are watching.

The Embassy

As Gerard finished the note, he snorted. To think the Embassy would leave a cozy note to wish him well. They had to weave in there the warning not to be noticed too much.

Gerard understands that last time caused a bit of trouble. That was nearly a century ago, and he had been young and reckless then. He wasn’t fooled when the Embassy put them in their ranks. They just wanted him off the streets, so they could keep an eye on him.

In truth, they had done what they set out to do when they placed him under control of the hardest general this side of the Atlantic. He was most certainly straightened out, and he has lost his flair for the dramatic. On a large scale, at least.

It was true that if they ever found out of him flashing his blood source and talking about it in a crowded human gathering location, he could be put to death immediately. That was why they would never found out.

After he let Frank entertain him in his weeks staying here and let him experience the peak of his sex life, he would dispose of the twerp and his little bar friend. After the best weeks of his life, Frank would have to be rid of.

And Gerard tells himself no longer does his dealings with a dramatic flair.

Yeah, right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's so late after the first chapter's upload, and this one may not be the best. It's purpose was to give Frank's background, and Gerard's intentions. It was to give more information, so the story can progress accordingly. Again, so sorry for the delay and the quality. If you guys want, I will most definitely continue. Just let me know!!
> 
> Current Music: Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes by Fall Out Boy


End file.
